


juniberry blossom

by rmaowl



Series: january [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Crying, Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Exhaustion, F/M, Farmer Lance (Voltron), Feelings, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Heaven, Hurt No Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Men Crying, Paranoia, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Lance (Voltron), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tears, all vague and implied but... hnn, dying! wanting to die to be with your loved one! this is not a happy fic folks, this is terrible i’m so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-11 02:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmaowl/pseuds/rmaowl
Summary: This isn’t what moving on feels like.





	juniberry blossom

Some days, the intense feeling of missing her increases with every breath he takes. Sometimes it’s manageable, while other times it’s debilitating.

He dreams of her often. She sits in a garden of juniberries, gazing up at him as she threads a blossom behind his ear.

"Could you be happy here with me?" She asks, soft, gentle. Her thumb brushes his cheek.

He says yes.

The dream ends, as it always does, with bittersweet tears soaking through his pillowcase.

He distracts himself with his work, his farm, aimlessly pushing wheelbarrows around. Everything he surrounds himself with is a reminder of her. Every heartbeat screams _I miss you._ There’s an ache in his chest that demands to be felt.

This isn’t what moving on feels like. This feels like drowning.

He’s tired. He looks in the mirror and sees scraggly, unwashed curly hair. He sees sad blue eyes accompanied by purpling eye-bags that look like bruises. He sees someone struggling, laden with grief.

Some nights he doesn’t dream. That’s due to the fact that he stays awake, struck with sudden paranoia, scanning his room for items that could be weaponized. He isn’t allowed sharp things after the incident a few days after her death, he doesn’t want to own guns, and his bayard disappeared into the night along with his lion. There isn’t a lot that he could do, should the Galra or some other alien race attack. That only causes him more panic.

Those nights aren’t good nights. Maybe there aren’t any good nights at all.

He’s left alone a lot, despite that fact that he lives with his family. They have their own agendas, their own business to attend to. He isn’t given any urgent tasks. Maybe they figure that’s what’s best for him. It isn’t. All he does is lie on his bed and stare at his ceiling, devoid of glow-in-the-dark stars, wondering if he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for things that weren’t his fault in the first place.

Lance imagines dancing with Allura again in heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> three noun prompt: forgiveness, dance, wheelbarrow  
> dialogue prompt: “could you be happy here with me?”


End file.
